Christine Lavin made me want to be a mysterious woman. She said to go ahead and be the disco queen. She helped me get in touch with my inner bitch. And she turned me into the sort of woman who loves to love difficult men.

The first time I heard her I was 13, on a long car trip with my mother. It wasn't very far into that first cassette before we realized things might be a little different than they had been before. We now had a way to describe eating foods you hate for a man you love, we knew why you should never call your sweetheart by his name and that possibly, if infatuated enough, even cold pizza for breakfast might sound good. There was a way, without screaming or accusing, to say, "These things are true, and yet they make me love you more." Actually, as I'm reflecting back now, I'm surprised to realize how much of an influence the story-songs on those first two tapes, Future Fossils and It's a Good Thing He Can't Read My Mind, were on my understanding of love, sex and relationships in general.

I wanted to grow up to be clever and funny, too. I wanted artsy friends who would hang out with me in chic places we would write about later. I wanted men who, though they would exhaust me, would be exciting and provide adventures with which to awe those super-suave friends.

And it happened. Thank you, Christine!

As for this new CD, again, I feel like I'm glimpsing the future. There is a tempered feeling in these almost completely narrative songs. There is less wildness, more peace. Christine sounds happy. Other than the title song, there isn't mention of the difficult man, which seems OK. We've all been there, we've all done that, it's probably sufficient to mention him and move on.

"Making Friends With My Grey Hair" sounds lovely -- it's a comfort, since I found my first this week. "For Carolyn/Something Beautiful" is a moving eulogy to a lost loved one and makes a plea to us all, "You may drift off course, and make mistakes, but please, leave something beautiful in your wake."

"Jack and Wanda," "Strangers Talk to Me" and "Sunday Breakfast with Christine" are more reminicent of earlier work, and most in the style I prefer. "Wind Chimes" was my favorite surprise on this CD; I'll confess to an inner groan at thinking she'd really written a tribute to wind chimes, of all things. In standard Lavin style, comedic anecdotal songs are interspersed with more weighty thoughts, including a reflection on Sept. 11.

Buy this CD. Buy all her CDs. Play them for you daughter. Send them to your sister, your mother, your girlfriend and a man you wish could understand you.

[ visit Christine Lavin's website ]